


Whispers in Westeros

by Thedrunkhippy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood Without Banners - Freeform, F/M, Multi, Other, Reunion, Stark - Freeform, Winterfell, baratheon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 20:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thedrunkhippy/pseuds/Thedrunkhippy
Summary: Arya Stark's journey home and the people who wait for her there.





	

_"Fear is for the winter, when the snow falls a hundred feet deep."  - Old Nan_

The Brotherhood without Banners would not have been without Lord Eddard Stark, it seemed that the gods wished for the Starks to have a mark on the world. This was what Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr agreed to tell the new King in the North, Jon Snow. They had no bad intentions, but there was a possibility that the bastard of Ned Stark would turn them away, they were, after all, renegades. Especially now that they had Sandor Clegane attached to their hip. If things did not work out at Winterfell they would try to convince the Night's Watch to help them on their quest, if they had not all been wiped out by now. It was hard to know what were rumors and what was the truth. There was word that Lord Frey was murdered in his own dining room by some maid, some say he was murdered by the ghost of Catelyn Stark and others say he choked on the pie he was eating when he found out it was made of his sons. All the stories agreed on one thing, the pie most certainly had Freys in it. 

 

The Hound stuffed his half scarred face with chicken legs and drank down the ale like it was his last day on earth. Thoros raised a brow at him and the Hound threw aside his a leg, "what?" The Hound asked. "Got something on my face?" 

 

"You need to slow down," Thoros said. "You can't expect the Starks to thing anything of us if we're in the company of a barbarian."

 

"The Starks are all dead," he said. 

 

"Except for his bastard and his eldest daughter," Anguy said. "I hear she's a beauty. You've seen her, haven't you Hound? Is there any truth to these whispers?" 

 

Sandor Clegane scoffed and stood up. "I'm going to go take a piss," he announced. He made his way out of the front door of the tavern, but as he stepped out he nearly knocked over a young boy. "Watch it," the Hound said moving around the child. The boy stared with big round gray eyes filled with what seemed like horror or at the very least shock. "What? You never seen-" he stopped speaking when the sheen of a thin sword caught his eye. "Where the fuck did you get that?" He asked and the boy began to back away slowly, still not saying a word. He tried to grab the boy's wrist, but he was a slippery little thing and he made for the woods. "Come back here!" The Hound ran after him, it felt like some odd dream. When he made it to the woods the boy seemed to disappear. "That sword don't belong to you, boy." Sandor listened carefully, hoping he would spook the boy enough to hear his movements, but there was nothing, except a reply. 

 

"Who does it belong to then?" He asked.

 

The Hound grunted. "Doesn't matter now, if you have it, she's probably dead." 

 

There was a soft rustling and the boy jumped from a tree in front of the Hound. His hair seemed to have fallen longer than Sandor Celgane thought. "What makes you think I ever died?" The voice was familiar, but a bit older, and as the boy raised his head, the Hound realized it was not a boy at all. It was Arya Stark. "What were you planning to do with my sword?"

 

"Bury it," he said with all honesty. "How did you do that?" 

 

"Do what?" 

 

"Change your face. Don't act bloody stupid." 

 

Arya smiled and said, "I went to Bravos and found a teacher." 

 

"Aye and it seems you've learned." The Hound looked her over for a moment and then turned around. 

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"To go piss," he said. "Maybe when I'm done I'll realize this is all a dream or that I'm too bloody drunk." 

 

"You're not." Arya followed him and waited until he was done pissing on the dirt to try to speak to him again, but he continued to ignore her until they got to the table. 

 

All eyes were on Arya, all eyes were filled with confusion and surprise. "You all see her too then?" 

 

"My lady, what are you doing here?" Beric asked. He had barely recognized her. 

 

"I'm going home. It must be fate that I see you all before I go back," she said, though it seemed she was only speaking her thoughts. 

 

"Home? To Winterfell?" Thoros asked and she nodded. 

 

Anguy was the only one to give her a hug. "You've grown up, girl," he said. She raised a brow at him. "Did you hear that Lord Frey's been murdered?"

 

"Of course," Arya said. "I'm the one that killed him." There was silence at the table until the Hound began to laugh hysterically. They all stared at the strange girl they had lost years ago. She was mostly the same on the surface, but there was something darker in her. Thoros remembered the Red Woman's words. "I see darkness in your eyes..." 

 

"Can I have some of this chicken?" She asked. 

 

* * *

 

 

Brienne and Podrick were halfway to Winterfell. The snow had doubled in its depth since last they were there. Brienne was growing weary, they'd lost half their rations on the way back and her morale felt less than it had ever felt. She could only picture Jaime Lannister waving as if it were the last they'd see each other. Jaime, her friend. The Kingslayer, no, he wasn't that. He was kinder and he had let them escape. "My lady!" Podrick said pushing Brienne aside as a blur of wild beast pounced on the squire. Brienne gained her focus as Podrick struggled under the beast, at first she thought it was just an ordinary wolf, but then she came to realize it was far larger. A direwolf. "Podrick!" She said as she unsheathed her sword. "I can't hold it back any longer, my lady!" 

 

The direwolf had gray fur and dark golden eyes. It was not angry, it was acting out of instinct as if to protect someone. "Stop!" Someone's voice called. It was hoarse. The direwolf whimpered and padded in the way of the voice. It was only a few feet away. A figure used the wolf to stand itself up and from the bushes were more wolves, none were as big or ferocious as the one which had attacked Podrick. "Please," the man said. He was hooded in a brown leather cloak. "Please, help me." The direwolf whimpered as it tried to keep the man up, but failed. Podrick slowly mad his way toward the man, but Brienne warned him to stay put. "We can't help him."

 

"My lady, he's got a direwolf, how many people in the Seven Kingdoms have a direwolf?" 

 

She thought for a moment. Jon Snow had one, a great white one with red eyes. "Are you a Stark?" Brienne asked. Eddard Stark had three legitimate sons. One had died at the Red Wedding, the other was a cripple and last she heard the youngest was either dead or missing. She wondered. "Are you a Stark?" She repeated. He echoed, "Stark... Stark... of Winterfell..." she couldn't much understand what else he said after that. Brienne helped him up onto her horse and tied his hands together behind his back. "Just in case..." she said and Podrick nodded in agreement. The stranger leaned against Podrick's back and they rode onto Winterfell. The direwolf and her pack followed them from a distance. 

* * *

 

There were whispers going around the dining hall at Winterfell. Lyanna Mormont seemed to be the only one who was able to hold her tongue, besides Petyr Baelish who was brooding in a dark corner watching as Sansa Stark spoke to her half brother. "We must make our move."

 

"There is a greater war at hand, Sansa," he said. "If we fight amongst ourselves in the Seven Kingdoms we will have no men left to fight for the Dawn." 

 

This silenced Sansa for a moment. "We don't have enough men now," she finally said. "We must at least send someone out to Riverrun to see what is to happen to uncle Edmure now that Lord Frey is dead." 

 

"Aye," Jon agreed, it was the first thing they agreed on in the past few days. 

 

"Jon," Sansa said and from the way she said his name he knew what she wanted to talk about again. "The rumors..." 

 

"It couldn't have been  _her,_ Sansa... she's only a girl."

 

"The last you saw me I was a girl. She's always been different from the rest of us. Never a lady."

 

"But not a killer either!" Jon hissed, it brought Ser Davos's attention to the two siblings. 

 

"Regardless," Ser Davos intervened. "I think Lady Sansa is trying to say that if it was your sister, Lady Arya, then it's possible that she is out there. Alive." Jon did not want to believe it, even if it meant he would see her again. He didn't want the same hope to build up when he saw Rickon. He'd rather it be a rumor, but still... 

 

The doors opened to the hall and a herald announced Brienne of Tarth and her squire. They kneeled and after a moment he waved them up to stand when he realized they wouldn't do it on their own. "Who is that?" Sansa asked noticing the figure behind them. His hood covered his face. "We do not know, Lady Sansa," Brienne said. "But he had with him a direwolf. One with dark gold eyes and gray fur. Almost as big as Lord Snow's own direwolf." 

 

"Nymeria...?" Sansa said trying to remember her sister's direwolf, yet this was no girl that was barely kneeling in front of them. "Remove his hood," Sansa demanded. Littlefinger seemed to take interest as he raised his gaze at the trio. Ser Davos nearly leaped out of his chair. His face was white as a sheet. "You know this man, Ser Davos?" Jon asked. The young man looked up at him weakly. "That's Robert Baratheon's bastard son and possibly the last remaining Baratheon. Gendry." The man nodded. "What were you doing with a direwolf?" Sansa asked him. Gendry was too weak to speak. "He seems to be nourished, my lady," Podrick said. "Perhaps if we fed him first he could be well enough to-"

Gendry croaked. "Arr...Arry...Arya...?" He fell forward.

 

Sansa and Jon looked at one another both hearing what the young man said. Arya.

* * *

Arya sat on her own horse and looked to the horizon at Winterfell. "It must be refreshing, my lady," Thoros said. "To see home once again." Arya only nodded and went along silently.

 

When they made it to the gates she raised her chin and pulled her shoulders back. She wanted them to see her, she wanted to see them. "Who goes there?" One of the guards at the gate asked. "Arya of House Stark," she said as clearly as she could.

* * *

Jon Snow and Sansa Stark waited outside the hallway of Gendry's room as he was being nursed back to health. It had been a day and he was now barely gaining his strength back. He had not had a drink in a few days and he hadn't eaten in longer. Jon had spoken to him the night before. He needed to know if this was some plight, but it wasn't. Gendry had told him, "she was pretending to be a boy," he seemed nostalgic of Arya. "And she had this sword, it was thinner than a normal sword, she called it..."

 

"Needle," they both said and Jon felt himself smile he remembered the day Arya had named the sword. They'd said it together. "Who were you to my sister?"

 

"No one," Gendry said before falling back asleep.

 

Jon had told Sansa about what Gendry said and she couldn't help but give him a sly smile. "He was no one to her? Yet, he's nearly killed himself to get here."

 

Heavy footsteps came down the corridor. "Snow," Tormund said breathlessly. He had run from the yard. "Snow, someone is at the gate claiming to be Arya Stark."

 

Again the siblings looked at one another. It was too much of a coincidence, then again winter had come and should not the Starks all follow? 

 

Jon ran as fast as he could, Sansa at his heels. Like children in the spring they ran with their hearts beating and their faces warm. Arya. Arya. Arya. Their minds screamed. They got to the top of the gate and looked down at the girl who was not so little or scrawny. She'd grown to be beautiful and held the Stark look. "Arya," Sansa said in tears. "Open the gate," Jon commanded. Arya was already off her horse as she ran to Sansa with a warm hug. "I'm sorry," they both said. "Oh gods, I'm sorry." 

 

"It's okay now," Sansa said and for a moment Arya heard Catelyn's voice and it put her in tears. When they made space Arya's eyes fell on Jon Snow. He studied her with a smile, his eyes moistened with tears. He saw Needle. He marched himself to her and she ran to him. He embraced her with all the warmth of summer. "I'd call you little sister, but you aren't so little anymore." She showered him with kisses as she did the last time they saw one another. 

* * *

 

At dinner Sansa kept whispering to Arya she had a surprise for her, well the gods did and with that they seemed to fall back into the same routine, except this time Arya was the one being annoyed. "What is it?" She asked impatiently. "Just wait," Sansa said. 

 

The door opened to the dining hall, Podrick had helped the figure up as he stared at Arya with his blue eyes. "My lady," he said with his sly familiar smile. Arya stood up from her seat without a word, they all watched as she marched up to Gendry and punched him right in the face. "Ouch! What was that for?" He asked, though he was laughing. "I told you never to call me that!" Gendry continued to laugh. "As milady commands." 

 

They looked at one another for a long while until Jon Snow realized what Sansa had meant. This Gendry Baratheon was not no one and he seemed more than a friend. "Almost like Lyanna and Robert," he heard Littlefinger whisper to him. "My, how history repeats itself." 

 

 

 

 


End file.
